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Dear Mr. Mel
Everything was going so well

Your life was swell
At least, until
The police caught you driving ‘round pell-mell

And they could tell
Just from the smell
You had had a little too much zinfandel

Put you in a cell
To rest a spell
But you believed you’d been treated ill

So you began to yell
At the personnel
Ranting ’bout the cops and Jews as well

And you rebelled
And cursed like hell
Then you finally paid your bail and said farewell

Oh, Mel
Please don’t dwell
On how you fell
Just go get well
In a hotel In Cozumel
With some Mezcal and Muscatel
Just give the car keys to someone else